Free Fortune's Proposal by Allison Leigh

wall into a pile of mush.
    Only the fear that he could be back sooner rather than later kept her moving and she practically tore open her tote bag, pulling out her shampoo and cosmetics. She raced through the shower, barely allowing herself enough time to appreciate the luxurious spray of water—twice as hot and twice as full as her miserly shower back home—before she was stepping out again onto the thick, woven bath mat. She wrapped a fluffy white towel around herself and tucked in the end as tightly as the plush thickness would allow.
    She raked the tangles out of her hair with her comb and managed to put on her makeup using the only corner of the mirror that hadn’t steamed up. Not that she wore much in the way of makeup. She rarely did. But there was to be a wedding that day, so she added a touch more eye shadow and blush than she normallyused, and hoped it was good enough to cover the fact that there were shadowy circles under her eyes from too little sleep.
    Fortunately, there was still no sound of Drew’s return and she plugged in her blow-dryer and made just as fast work out of getting her thick hair dry and lying smooth and flat against her shoulders. It was actually a little long. She was long overdue for a trim, but she’d been saving up for her New Year’s weekend with her friends.
    So much for that.
    She tucked everything back into her small tote and stowed it on the empty shelf below the one that held the towels and walked back into the bedroom, tightening the towel again. She was just pulling fresh panties out of the drawer where she’d stowed them when the bedroom door creaked softly and she whirled around.
    Drew, wearing jeans and nothing else, gave her a look that seemed just as shocked.
    â€œCoffee,” he muttered and extended his arm and the sturdy, brilliant red mug he was holding.
    She’d worked for the man for four years. She’d personally fixed and served him countless pots of coffee during that time. Knew that he liked it stronger than most people preferred, and that only when he was nursing a hangover did he want any sugar added.
    Clearly, he’d never noticed that not once had she ever had any coffee herself.
    But that’s what she got for lying.
    If the worst thing that happened that weekend was having to choke down a cup of the vile stuff, she supposed it was a small price to pay, particularly when a part of her was ogling the hard, cut lines of his abdomen.
    So she managed a smile and reached out to takethe mug, only realizing then that her panties were still clutched in her fist. She flushed and pitched them back into the drawer then reached for the coffee mug again. “Thanks.”
    Unfortunately, when she reached, the tucked towel gave way.
    And all she could do was stand there, frozen, as the thick, thick towel fell right to the hardwood floor beneath her bare feet.

Chapter Five
    H ell and damnation.
    The oath exploded inside Drew’s head just as quickly as it passed his lips when that white towel seemed to hit the ground almost in slow motion where it mounded around Deanna’s bare feet and slender ankles.
    He knew only a second had passed before they were both reaching down for the thing, but what he’d seen in that second was blistered into his brain.
    No. Not even blistered. Because a blister would heal and disappear.
    More like tattooed.
    Because the image of her sleek figure was not likely to leave his mind. Ever.
    His hand reached the towel, only to collide with hers. Realizing his gaze was straying back to the expanse of creamy, tanned skin that covered her from shoulders to toes—save a few intriguingly tiny, pale triangles—he lether take the towel as they straightened, and instead concentrated on the depths of the rich coffee that Isabella had prepared. He never would have figured his assistant for a bikini type, but he damn sure could recognize the source of those tan lines.
    â€œSorry.” His voice came